Step Together
by Burntsugrr
Summary: This is the sequel to Fix. Read that first. Grissom and Sara learn to be in a healthy relationship.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Sara threw her kit into the back of the Denali and blew the hair from her face. It was only two hours past the time she should have clocked out; barely registering as overtime when you considered the long hours she had worked on swing shift. The heat from the day was stifling though and she had stayed out late the night before shopping with Nick's new bride.

Starting the car she found the number 2 and speed dial buttons on her cell phone without looking.

"Hey beautiful."

"Gris, sorry about before. I didn't mean to be short with you but I was"

"At a scene, I figured. Long day?"

"Very. Is it okay if we skip the whole going out to the movies thing tonight?" Sara navigated a left turn and winced as a bag of chips that had been her only lunch spilled to the floor.

"Sure, no problem." It was a problem. This was to be their third date. The first had been rushed, he had to leave for work, the second had been a nice dinner, which felt a little formal to them both and had been blissfully interrupted by his beeper. He knew she was probably honestly tired, but he couldn't help the small voice in the back of his head that told him she was losing interest. Getting what you think you want can do that.

She was still talking but he had tuned out. "Sorry, you cut out there for a second, what was that?"

She smiled to herself. She could tell when he wasn't listening. Sometimes she was tempted to start quoting facts she had caught from Animal Planet or lines from movies she was pretty sure he hadn't seen in an attempt to lure him back from Willy Loman status.

"I said, I'm too beat to go out, but I feel like I haven't seen you in forever. Wanna come over and watch something on dvd?"

"You get the movie, I'll bring dinner. Meet you at your place in 45?"

"It's a date."

Grissom was in her lot when she pulled up. He kissed her temple hello as he juggled bags of Indian food in his hands. Once inside he set the food on her kitchen counter and caught her around the waist as she reached for dishes.

Nose to nose she smiled, "Hi." He kissed her softly, "Hello." They began another kiss when her buzzer sounded. "Expecting company?" he wondered. She shook her head and frowned a little.

"Hello?"

"Sara, it's me, Luna. You left your sweater in my car last night, thought I'd drop it off on my way home from work."

"C'mon up." She pressed the buzzer to unlock the door for her new friend and then looked to Grissom, gauging his expression. They hadn't told anyone yet that they were seeing one another and she wasn't sure he wanted to now.

His face gave nothing away, instead he pulled down the plates she had been moving toward before he redirected her and started setting up their food.

Luna knocked, Sara answered and moved to let her in. "Wow, smells great in here, did you cook?"

Sara had to laugh, "Not me, I'm not a good cook at all. Its take out."

"You sure knew your way around William Sonoma last night for someone who doesn't cook." Luna asserted before handing Sara the aforementioned sweater.

"I bake a little. When I'm home. Do you want to come in, have a glass of wine?" Sara hoped she'd say no, but what could she do, she had to offer.

Grissom showed up behind her, his arm snaking it's self around her, hand landing possessively on her hip. "There's plenty of food, feel free to stick around. We're gonna watch a movie."

Sara's mind reeled. This meant he didn't care who knew. Certainly he could count on Luna telling Nick, Nick would tell Warrick, Warrick might tell Catherine and from there it might as well be on the evening news.

Luna grinned, "No thanks, I don't want to interrupt. I have to go home and collect 20 bucks from my husband."

Grissom raised his eyebrows at her and she answered without further prompting, "I won a bet. Enjoy dinner."

Sara turned to face Grissom, "I forgot the movie."

Luna to the rescue, "Oh, I have a great dvd in the car, walk me down and I'll let you borrow it."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Shawn of the Dead?" Grissom turned the dvd over in his hand. It was clear he didn't hold out much hope for the film. Sara shrugged, "We could go get something else, or just see what's on cable."

"Shawn of the dead." He was shaking his head. Sara removed the movie from his grip and led him to the table. "Let's eat. I'm starving."

"Do you think Nick watched Shawn of the Dead?" He sat across from her at the small table.

"Can you stop saying 'Shawn of the Dead'? It's unsettling."

"It's just…Dawn of the Dead. Okay, Good zombie flick, the original anyway. Even Son of the dead has potential. Shawn of the dead. What does that even mean?"

"We don't have to watch it. Tell me what you did today." She tried weakly to change the subject but truth be told she was amused.

"No, oh no. We're watching this. Shawn of the…" her look stopped him cold and he went into Ward Clever mode, "How was your day dear?"

"Tiring. I'm getting to old to stay up so late and then work in the morning."

"You and Luna have a wild girls night out at William Sonoma?"

She stuck her tongue out at him, "It wasn't JUST William Sonoma. They're filling a new apartment, they need everything."

"Didn't they have stuff before?"

"I don't see Nick being too jazzed about sleeping on her pink flowered sheets."

"Good point. I'm hoping Nick had sheets."

Sara made a face, "Boy sheets."

"Boy sheets? I can see how sheets can be feminine, or neutral, but unless we suspect he sleeps on sheets with superheroes or footballs, I don't see what would be so masculine about his sheets."

Sara laughed a little and tried not to choke on her food. "I wouldn't put the football sheets past him. Not what I meant though. Guy funk."

"Funk?"

"C'mon Grissom. We go to a scene, or to interview someone at their house. If a woman lives in the house it smells one way, if a man lives alone, or with other men…funk."

"My house does not have a funk. I bet Shawn's house is plenty funky."

She stabbed him lightly with her fork. "Leave Shawn out of this."

"Does my house have a funk?" he looked genuinely concerned.

"I don't remember. I haven't been there in years. If I had to guess I'd say it probably doesn't, but your office definitely has a funk."

"My office has guy funk?"

"Bug funk. Dead stuff funk. It's okay, it's not gross like guy funk, it's just…forensifunk."

"Sounds like a band Greg would listen to, Forensifunk." Grissom toyed with his food, considering.

"They could do the theme song for Shawn of the Dead Two." She laughed and he grinned at her.

He rinsed the dishes in the sink while she changed out of work clothes. They met on the sofa and Sara resigned herself to an education in what did and did not constitute an acceptable zombie movie. They sat close, but not touching until he reached for her hand. Absolutely anything could have been happening on the television screen, Sara had no idea. Eyes closed, she lay her head back on the sofa, what they watched didn't matter, how late she stayed up, who cared, this moment was golden. She was home, he was there, and she could just be.

Her mind drifted to the last time she sat with a man on her sofa, wrapped in Hank's arms. She'd worked so hard to be interested in his day, to try to think of questions that would make him want to talk but invariably all he wanted was what they all wanted. Maybe not all. Most of them.

She thought about the nights she slept on the sofa, afraid to go to bed. Unable to really find a calm place in her mind, hearing the screams of victims she worked to avenge, the scream of her mother as she landed blow after blow on her father. She held tight to her sympathy for the victim so she wouldn't have to acknowledge her empathy for the killer.

Somewhere along the way she must have fallen asleep. In her dream she and Luna smothered a screaming man who's face they couldn't see under sheets covered in football players and spiders. Luna kept telling her that Shawn was going to be pissed.

"Shhhh. Hey, it's okay." Grissom had pulled her into his arms and was smoothing her hair.

"Sorry, I must have drifted off." She knew she should probably sit up, make some explanation but instead she snuggled deeper into him and lay her head on his chest allowing him to stroke the side of her face, the back of her neck.

He kissed the top of her head and then gently nudged her with his chin, "Tell me about this baking you do."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Seen any good movies lately?"

Halfway into the shift, the team was assembled around the break room table picking at food and sharing details of their cases. Nick's comment could have been construed as having been directed at the room, but Grissom knew it was for him.

Unwittingly Greg took the pressure off by detailing some gore fest playing at the multiplex. Catherine couldn't understand how Greg could want to watch that stuff after doing what they do all night. Nick wanted to know if Grissom liked horror movies.

"I'm partial to the classics, like Dawn of the Dead."

He couldn't help but bait. Before he'd kissed Sara goodbye and left for work he'd asked her how she felt about the others knowing. Her sleepy answer, "Torture Nick as long as possible, then just tell them and be done with it." Post kiss he had asked, half teasing, "What, exactly, should I tell them?"

She kissed him again, waking both of them up a little with her intensity and then smirked, "Tell them they should be very, very jealous."

"What about Shawn of the Dead?" Nick avoided Grissom's eyes by swigging from his Gatorade just after asking.

"It was nice of Luna to let us borrow it but I missed most of it, Sara's quite the distraction. I'd be willing to lend you some good zombie movies though, if you're in need." And with that the supervisor left the room, a group of mystified investigators in his wake.

Catherine spoke first, "Did he just say what I think he did?"

Nick's smile got the best of Warrick, "You might want to brush those canary feathers from your chin and tell us what that was all about."

Nick widened his grin in the direction of his coworker, "Meow. Cost me twenty bucks, I'm not telling you for free. If the Bossman wants you to know, he'll tell you." He followed his supervisor's steps down the hall.

Catherine made a face at Warrick, "You think Grissom and Sara…?"

"Nah, he's just messing with us, right?" They both stood at the same time.

"Guys?" Greg was the only one remaining at the table. "You're not serious are you?"

Grissom sat behind his desk and waited. Nick showed up first and Grissom merely pointed at a seat and then looked expectantly at the door. It was only moments before the rest of the team joined them.

He looked down, considering, allowing his tongue to explore the corner of his mouth.

"Well?" Greg finally demanded.

"What do you want to know?" Grissom feigned innocence.

"What's going on with you and Sara?" Catherine chimed in.

"My personal life is not" his bluff got cut off, the glint in his eye had answered her.

She shook her head in amazement, smiling widely "It's about time."

Warrick cleared his throat, "Amen to that. Congratulations man."

Greg looked from one face to the next, they had to be putting him on. "Wait, this is a joke right? Grissom? And Sara?"

Grissom turned his full attention to Greg. Grissom's full attention was unsettling for many people; Greg was close to the top of that list. "Does it strike you as funny?"

He tried for recovery, "Not funny, ha ha, not, I just wasn't aware that the two of you, ah,I mean she's kinda more my spee…"

Oh. The look on Grissom's face did not bode well.

"I'm just saying, it's a surprise. Uh. I'm happy for you."

As they filed out of his office Grissom smiled hearing Nick tell Warrick, "Best 20 bucks I ever lost." And Warrick's response, "You bet AGAINST Grissom? Sucker bet."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

"So things are going well?" Dr. Case prompted Sara.

"Yeah, I mean, I've been hanging out more with the girls from work, and with Luna now that she and Nick are home. She's actually a really cool girl. I've talked to my mom a few times, apologized for trying to back her into a corner just to move my own process along. Y'know, things are good."

"Any you find the day shift suits you?"

"I like it. At first I wasn't sure, but it really does make it easier to just have a normal life." Sara stopped and smiled to herself a little, "Normal life-imagine that."

"A normal life with the man you've wanted and believed you couldn't have."

"Yeah, there's that. It's more though. I'm just having a good time."

"Is there a reason you're avoiding discussing the progression of your relationship with Gil?"

"Kind of. It used to be that so much of my perceptions were colored by my interaction or lack of interaction with him, now I have so much going on at once that even though things with him are better than I thought they could be, it's not the only good thing. It feels sort of like things got better with him because they got better with me, instead of the other way around."

"And isn't that a powerful thing to know? That all of the things that you allow to skew how you think about yourself are really under your control after all. Once you have that lesson Sara, nothing can stand in your way to true happiness."

High on a great therapy session she bounced into the back booth at Grady's bar and leaned across the table to kiss her man hello. His beard smelled like glue but she still loved the way it tickled her chin.

"Were you at the lab?" she wrinkled her nose at him.

"Yeah, I had some stuff to process, why?"

"You smell like the fume hood."

"Sorry. It was a productive night though."

"Oh?" she wiggled in her seat delighted. "Tell me."

"Greg was the only one who acted surprised. Catherine's eyebrows shot up to the top of her head, but she recovered pretty quickly with a nice, 'it's about time'."

Sara smiled at Grady when he put her order down and then frowned slightly at her tablemate. "Gris? I never really asked, why now?"

They were holding hands across the table and he squeezed hers slightly before letting go so that she could eat. "Everything seemed to be falling into place." He forked a large portion of scrambled eggs into his mouth.

She looked down at her food and considered before meeting his eyes again, "Like what?"

"Like you not working for me anymore. I'd call that a pretty good start."

Sara took a moment. She knew she should probably let it be but couldn't. "That can't be all."

"It isn't." His eyes tightened almost imperceptibly, "Can it be enough for now?"

Her smile returned, it was a patent Grissom non-answer but somehow it set her at ease, "Yeah, it can." She wanted to let him know that she wasn't questioning his motives, just his timing, that it was curiosity and nothing more, but her cell phone pressed for attention.

She checked the display and looked slightly confused, "Hey mom. What's up?"

Grissom connected with her eyes, looking concerned, she answered with a mildly perplexed expression and a shoulder shrug.

"That's great!" she sounded like she was trying to make herself believe it as much as her mother. "Don't worry mom, I'll come help. I have Tuesday off, I'll come first thing in the morning and we'll have it done in no time. I'll call you later okay?"

She waited, told her mother not to worry a few more times and then said goodbye.

"Everything okay?" Grissom asked.

"My brother," here she exhaled loudly before continuing, "He and my mom never saw eye to eye. When I was a kid he started drinking with his friends, smoking pot."

"I remember you told me once that you found his stash, took it to your parents."

"Yeah. Mom grounded him. Dad said 'boys will be boys'. They disagreed most of the time about what was and wasn't growing pains. Dad wanted to let him make his own mistakes but mom wanted to give him structure. He got sick of her rules and took off to live with some relatives in Vermont when he turned 16."

"How old were you?"

"10? Could be 11, I don't remember exactly. He would call dad, and me or write us letters all the time. When" here she stopped, it was still hard to say the words in conversation, "When…"

"Everything happened," Grissom offered.

"He blamed mom. I tried to tell him what a monster dad had become but he couldn't see it. He saw dad as the good time guy and mom as the killjoy. Bad word choice. Anyway, he never spoke to her again and things between us became strained. We grew up in different homes."

"And now he's contacted your mother?"

"He got married a few months ago. He invited me to the wedding but we were in the middle of a big case and I couldn't get away. His wife is pregnant now and she wants to meet everyone, I think she's got it in her head that if she just gets everyone in the same room we'll turn into the Waltons. She talked him into coming out for a visit and I guess he just called mom and told her they'll be here next week."

"Sounds like he's open to trying. He must really love his wife."

"I never thought of it like that, but you're right. That's some strong love to make him forget all the years of hate. Or try to forget."

Grissom touched the back of her hand with his finger, a brief caress that stopped her heart for a moment. She didn't need words to tell her that he felt their love was just as strong.

"Thing is my mother isn't what you would call a neat housekeeper. In fact the place is mostly a wreck so now she's flipping out about this new girl seeing that she lives the way she does. Sorry, I know you got Tuesday off so we could have a whole day together but I'm gonna have to go out there and clean up."

"I can help."

"I'm betting you can find a million better things to do with a day off. Thanks, but I'll manage."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Sara dabbed red paint onto a paper towel. She and Luna had come to the paint your own pottery place after meeting for coffee. The movie they were going to see at the UA Theater had been cancelled, the sign said because of a burst pipe and Luna had been hell bent on going next door to the Artful Potter instead. It didn't take a Ph.D in psychiatry to see that Luna, who by trade was an art therapist, was hoping to open Sara up some while getting her to paint some random piece of clay.

Thinking she might be figuring out what it felt like to be a piece of evidence under a microscope Sara stood before hundreds of choices of things to be decorated. Luna chose a set of mugs and watched Sara make a few false starts. She finally chose a planter slightly larger than the one at home. Years ago Grissom had sent her a peace offering by way of a plant and in a show of faith it had clung to life and continued to grow even when she refused to water or feed it or allow it into the light in any way. It was time now for its roots to spread out some.

A half hour after they sat down Sara's planter remained pristine and her paper towel looked blood soaked. Red was the only color she could be drawn to with her brush but every time she tried to apply it she cleaned it with the towel instead.

"Can't decide on a design?" Luna asked.

"It doesn't feel like it needs one. I like it just the way it is." Sara shrugged.

"I always think that things are better when they have a personal touch. I like to put a little of myself into everything." Luna stroked green paint upward on her mug creating a strong design, but no image.

"I'd probably make a mess, I'm not exactly the artistic type."

Grabbing Sara's brush her friend dipped into the bright red paint and drew a squiggle on the planter. "There. Now it isn't perfect, it's just a canvas, add something to it."

Rolling her eyes she took back her brush, but oddly, it was easier now to allow herself to paint the pot. She got into her work quickly and was dipping into colors, mixing and swishing paint to get just the right effect.

"So how are things with the Bug Man?"

"They're good. I feel a little bad because we finally have the same day off coming up but I have to run to my mom's in California."

"Take him with you." Spoken like someone whose family was NOT a mess.

"He offered actually, I'm going to help her clean up for some visiting relatives, but I don't think he's ready for my mom yet."

"He's not, or you're not?" Luna never looked up from her mug.

"I can see why you get paid for this, you should get together with Dr. Case, you'd make a killing."

"Thanks, seriously though, why not just bring him along. She's going to have to meet him sooner or later right?"

"Later."

"What'd you say when he offered?"

"Thanks but no thanks. I know he wanted to be some emotional support because cleaning my mom's house at this point is well…more than just cleaning a house, but I just don't want to drag him into my drama."

"Can I offer you a different perspective?"

"Why not."

"Is this housecleaning going to be difficult for you? Emotional?"

"The cleaning itself, no. The day overall? Yeah."

"If you knew that he was going to be dealing with something similar wouldn't you want to be there? How would you feel if he kept you out of that?"

Sara's mind flashed to Grissom's hearing issues. When she'd found he had had surgery and not told her, not invited her support, it had hurt. She would want him to trust her to care about him no matter what, whether he was deaf, or his mother was crazy. Shouldn't she trust him as much?

"You win. I need a few less therapists in my brain but you win."

When the pot was finished she sat back and admired her work. Luna tilted her head, "Abstract, I like it."

"Thanks." She didn't bother telling her friend that it was not an abstract but a detailed image of microarray of heart tissue, the geek version of painting hearts and flowers.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

It was one of those mornings you could feel the promise of the heat that the day would bring but cool air prickled your skin. At 7:10 Grissom's car swung into her lot and Sara ran out to meet him.

He had to have seen her in shorts before, but if he did, he couldn't remember. Probably the last time he had been trying to distract himself from noticing what he couldn't allow himself to dream of touching. Now Grissom watched with great attention as she strode, half asleep from her doorway, bag slung over her shoulder, sunglasses covering her dark eyes. So rapt in the vision was he that he neglected to hop out and open her door but she didn't seem to notice. She folded herself in next to him and returned his hello kiss.

"You're late, not that I blame you." She mumbled amiably.

"I figured you'd need this." He lifted a large chai iced tea from her favorite coffee place out of the cup holder and placed it into her eager hands.

"God I love you." She pulled off the cover and took a long drink before noticing his stare. "I was talking to the tea. I'm very fond of you too though." She smirked.

She had called her mother last night and begun to ask her to not push too hard with Grissom but then, hearing Dr. Case's voice in her head she stopped herself and left it with, "Just, don't ask him about grandkids until we've been in the house for at least five minutes okay?" and decided to just let everyone handle their own crazy for a change.

A half hour into the drive Sara got antsy. "I'm going to Alabama and I'm bringing an aliquot mixer."

He turned slowly to stare at her for as long as he dared while driving 85 miles an hour. "What?"

"I'm going to Alabama and I'm bringing an aliquot mixer."

"I'm thinking they have mixers in Alabama, what are you talking about?"

She turned in her seat and pushed her glasses onto her head, "Are you telling me you never played this game on car trips?"

"With who?"

"Good point. Okay, so we're going to Alabama…"

"Why are we going to Alabama?"

"Because it starts with the letter A. it's an alphabet game. I say, 'we're going to Alabama and I'm bringing an aliquot mixer. Because aliquot begins with the letter A. Now you have to say, 'I'm going to Alabama and I'm bringing an aliquot mixer and something that starts with the letter B."

"Wouldn't I say, 'I'm going to Boston and I'm bringing something that starts with B'?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I don't know, that's just not the way. I guess if we made it all the way through Alabama and Z then we'd add Boston and start with an A."

He shook his head and continued to drive but she just kept looking at him until finally he said, "We're going nowhere near Alabama and you're bringing an aliquot mixer…"

"No, you have to say '**I'm** bringing blah blah blah."

"We're going to Alabama and **I'm** bringing an aliquot mixer, though I don't know why we need two of them and a few Battus philenor."

They continued on this way, neither forgetting a single thing until Grissom pulled into a gas station and Sara bolted for the restroom. Large iced tea and road trips were a killer combination and her bladder could not wait for cleaner amenities.

Glancing at her once they were back on the road he read the worry in her eyes and reached for her hand (brushing against a very smooth thigh), "Sara, it's going to be fine."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. It's just, she's a little, intense at times, y'know."

His lips twisted into a smile, "I can't imagine." But when he saw her face he knew better than to draw any further comparison between mother and daughter. His thumb stroked her fingers (and if it occasionally strayed to caress her leg who would blame him?) "Honey don't worry. I'll be there, you can vent at me if you need to."

She was too busy imagining her mother giving him the third degree to enjoy his touch. "It's not me I'm worried about. She's going to feed you cookies until you're in sugar shock and then start in on you with all sorts of inappropriate questions."

"I like the cookie part. You didn't tell me there'd be cookies." He was in too good of a mood for her to rain on.

"There are always cookies, and she's unnerved so there'll be even more than usual. Gris," her voice got serious and she tightened her grip on his hand, "She really might press you about us, I just want you to know, you don't have to give her any answers."

He pulled her hand to him and kissed the back of it, "I can handle a little motherly interrogation Sara. Relax, this will be fun."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Grissom turned the car into the short driveway, cut the ignition and smiled at the very worried woman by his side. He lifted her hand, placed a kiss at her wrist and brushed his beard along the inside of her arm all the way to her elbow. The sensuality of it, juxtaposed with their situation of the moment was enough to throw Sara right out of her trance.

She closed her eyes and willed herself to relax, to let whatever this day was going to bring unfold and be okay. She wondered what Dr. Case would say about the fact that she knew it would be okay because Gil was with her. Something in his eyes told her that her mother couldn't possibly scare him away, if anything they were together in this, a united front. It was a new feeling, to have someone on your side.

He took her hand as they made their way to the front door. Grissom half whispered to her "You weren't kidding about the cookies, I can smell them already." Inside her mother was a whirling dervish of activity, pulling cookies out of the oven, moving a cooling rack off a chair so the "kids" could sit and fussing over how handsome Sara's "friend" was.

Grissom turned on the charm, taking over the duties of moving the newly baked cookies from their sheet to the rack with precision spatula work and insisting that Mrs. Sidle (you'll have to call me mom, I insist) sit with her daughter and discuss their plan of attack for the day.

Sara tried to concentrate on her mother's barrage of ideas; things that needed cleaning, repairing, throwing out, but she couldn't pull her eyes off of Grissom. Grissom standing in her mother's kitchen in faded old blue jeans and worn sneakers, diligently treating every cookie her mother had baked as if it were a miniature piece of art. He actually seemed to not only be calm in the face of this huge moment (somehow it felt less huge because of his reaction) but he seemed to be enjoying it, to be in his element.

He handed a warm cookie to her and took a bite of another, "When I helped in the kitchen my mother always paid me in cookies, I trust this arrangement will work here as well?"

"You eat as many as you want Gil. Doesn't Sara make them for you at home?"

He shook his head, " 'Friad not, she leaves me woefully neglected in the baked goods department."

"Like me and grandkids." Her mother said pointedly and wrinkled her nose at her daughter.

Gil leaned down and mock whispered, "I'll see what I can do about your problem, you see what you can do about mine" in the older woman's ear.

"That's enough out of both of you. I'm not sticking anything in my oven yet. We have work to do."

Grissom shrugged at "Mom Sidle" in a 'what can you do?' way and then turned semi serious. "I think I'll start in the yard. It looks like I can clear away some of the stuff on the side and in the back. Your wood pile looks like it's falling down."

"You be careful around that woodpile young man, it's full of spiders."

"Is it?" he sounded excited. "Excellent!" he kissed Sara's cheek and winked at her on his way out the door.

The women began in the living room, the kitchen was disorganized but clean, but the living room needed much attention. Her mother was a keeper, magazines, junk mail, thank you cards created by the children at local schools and organizations to whom she had donated cookies for one drive or another.

The clutter was all from the time after her mother had returned home. There were no photographs displayed in the house at all. No reminders of a time reaching further in the past than five years.

Sara filled two garbage bags with the receipts, cardboard boxes and peanut filling that remained from her mother's romance last year with QVC. She stacked all of those cards from the kids in a pile; someday maybe they could put them in a scrapbook. When the room's clutter was at it's minimum she handed her mother a rag and some polish. "You start the dusting in here, I'll start the front hall."

An hour later while working in the guest bedroom a scent other than cookies curled itself around Sara's conscious. It crept in slowly, a vaguely familiar and pleasant thing that was subtle enough to evade her only to be detected again moments later. She cut off the motor of the vacuum cleaner and sniffed the air. In the distance she could hear another motor humming along.

Sara pushed aside the faded curtains to find her mother's backyard, normally an overgrown mess of weeds, grass and discarded junk, transformed into something much more appealing. Most appealing of all was Grissom, pushing what she had to assume was a borrowed lawn mower, her mothers had broken down a year ago and she just never would let Sara replace it. She sat on the edge of an old hope chest and lifted the window allowing the breeze to carry in the smell of grass, cut just for her, by the man she loved.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Sara took in the vision of the sun baking into his strong forearms and thought about them locked around her. She loved the way he held her, the way his hands moved over her skin with no hesitation. It was true that their physical relationship had not progressed very far, they had shared amazing kisses, and Grissom had been affectionate but he had never pressed for anything further and until now she had been satisfied with what they had. Watching him gather a thin layer of dirt and sweat while clearing her mothers yard rekindled a deeper desire.

Her mother joined her at the window. "He's a good one. Hang on to him."

Sara said nothing, just scooted a little and made room for another person on the trunk. They both watched as Grissom trimmed the unruly lawn into neat little rows.

"I'm sorry I didn't want to talk the last time you were here. You took me by surprise." The older woman laid her hand over the younger, smoother one on the windows ledge. "I know that it's been a struggle, for us both, but Sara I don't regret what I did. I regret that I let it go as far as it did, I'm sorry that I couldn't find a way to make him get help earlier on but I can't live back there."

A tear ran down Sara's cheek. Grissom looked up toward the window and seeing the women waved and smiled. She returned the wave, the smile she couldn't quite manage.

"Mom? Was dad one of the good ones, in the beginning?"

"Your dad was a dreamer. He always had a plan, a scheme. He was good at telling stories and making everyone believe them and yes, I believe he had a very good heart. The problem was that he started to believe his stories, he wanted to pull things from his fantasies and make them true but he didn't know how. It ate away at him. He began to drink; he began to experiment with drugs. He said that it helped him to see things more clearly but all it really did was make him feel like the intangible was just beyond his grasp. When he would come up with crazy plans I would try to ground him but he saw that as my stopping him from reaching for what he wanted and he began to resent me, and unfortunately, you by extension."

"He was so proud of me as a kid but then it all just changed."

"He thought you would follow in his foot steps and excel. Then you passed him by. You didn't just stretch out your hand, you grabbed the brass ring and he knew he never would. It wasn't your fault Sara. It wasn't even his fault. It was just unfortunate circumstance and if I had been stronger I would have taken us away from him when he began to get violent but I loved him. I wanted to make him better."

She let that sit between them for long moments and then asked, "Do you love Gil, Sara? As he is? Because if you love only parts of him and think that your love can make the rest okay you'll fail, but if you love him just as he is you can be happy."

A hard lump had formed in her throat, it took three good swallows to move it away and allow her to speak. "I love him mom, exactly as he is. He isn't perfect, I wouldn't have any idea what to do with him if he was, but there is nothing I need to change about him, or pretend isn't true."

Sara waited a beat and then couldn't stop herself from asking, "Do you still love dad?"

Her mother thought for a long time. "I still love the man I married. In the end he wasn't the same, but I think I loved what was truly him and hated what had happened to him. Did I love him when I killed him? Fear killed him, protection of my child killed him and the man I killed wasn't the man I married. Could I kill again? To protect you, to protect your brother, to protect myself, I could, and so could you. Does that make us deranged? No. It makes us human."

Sara held her mothers hand in her own. "I don't blame you for not leaving. I don't think Gris has the capacity for any of it, but if he started to have problems I know I'd stick it out, I'd have to at least try."

"We've cleaned enough today. Your brother's new wife is going to have to take us as we are from here out. Let's go make some lunch and feed that man of yours."

"Mom?"

"Yes?"

"No more grandkid talk okay? We've barely just found our way to each other, I don't want anyone getting too far ahead of themselves, even if it's a joke."


	9. Chapter 9

(A/N: I personally have never been affected one way or another at the scent of freshly cut grass that particular personality trait is all Sara's. It was as much a surprise to me as to anyone it showed up on the screen in her session with Dr. Case initially and so I followed it to its natural conclusion. Today while driving to work I smelled newly cut grass for the first time this season and must say I was moved to a more romantic state of mind automatically. I may be learning as much from Dr. Case's sessions as Sara is.)

On the drive home Sara was mostly quiet. When they left her mother had asked her if they would both be there when her brother arrived. Grissom hadn't said a word, just munched happily on one of the cookies from the bag her mother had prepared to sustain him on the road. Sara had said she'd be there and left it at that. Despite his easy demeanor at the house she wondered if all the domesticity had been a little much for him.

She broached the subject carefully. "You charmed my mother, she loves you."

There was that word again. At least her mother loved more than iced tea. "I enjoyed her. Can you bake like that?"

"You might have a cookie obsession that needs addressing."

"I'll check for a local chapter of C.A."

"Cookies anonymous? Take mom with you." She waited a few moments then added, "Thanks for today, you were great."

"It was fun. I forgot how much I enjoy yard work."

"There's definitely something wrong with you."

"Or maybe it's easy to enjoy when you only do it once every decade or so."

"Yeah, maybe that."

"Your mom has a nice space on the side of the house for a grill. Did she ever have one there?"

"Near the broken down picnic table? No I don't think so, who would she grill for?"

He shrugged and seemed to get lost in thought. She loved stealing glances when he was like this, particularly when he was driving. She loved his face when he was both in control and without any self awareness, it was open and kind.

"We could bring a small one over."

She was lost. "A small what?"

"Grill. Charcoal, not gas, if you're going to cook with gas you might as well cook inside. My dad used to say that all the time. I just thought it would be easier when you brother comes."

"Okay." She didn't know what to say, he was obviously planning in his head.

"If you think it's a bad idea just tell me. I only thought if we barbequed in the side yard it would feel less formal maybe. I don't know."

So he was coming, just like that. No question, no drama, just like he'd dealt with her mom, just like he'd dealt with pretty much everything since the night they first went out.

"It's not a bad idea, I don't think that old picnic bench will hold up though."

"Structurally it's sound. I checked it out. It could use a coat of paint but I don't know if we'll have time to get back and paint it"

Sara finished his thought as he trailed off "And have it dry in time. I could get one of those plastic table cloths."

"Let your mom know what we're thinking, we could be off base, maybe she's looking forward to cooking a big family meal."

"Yeah, I don't know what her grilling skills are like."

"I've got that covered. Pit master Grissom at your service."

"Seriously?"

"I never joke about barbeque, Sara. Tell your mom if she wants to go this route she can bake whatever she wants for desert, I'll cover the grilled foods and you'll buy some salads and fruit."

"Buy? I'm not so lost in the kitchen that I can't handle a little potato salad."

He stopped with the traffic and raised an eyebrow at her. "Where do you stand on the egg issue? Potato salad, with or without eggs?"

"Without obviously, otherwise I might as well just eat the chicken."

"I'll make the potato salad."

"You will not, I'll make it."

"It isn't potato salad without eggs."

"Technically it is. _Technically_ when you add eggs it becomes potato and **egg** salad."

"What about pasta salad?"

"Who puts eggs in pasta salad?"

"No one. Will you make pasta salad?"

"Sure." She waited a beat "Don't think I didn't notice the subject change when I pulled out the logic."

"I should assume no salami in the pasta salad right?"

"Safe assumption."

"It isn't fair."

"Life isn't fair Gris, deal with it."

"You're going to expect grilled eggplant or tofu burgers or something but I can't get an egg in my potato salad."

"You'll survive."

"Somehow."

"Gris?"

"Mmm?"

"Are we really planning a family picnic at my mother's house?"

"We are."

"It's amazing how quickly things change isn't it?"

He didn't answer, just rested his palm on her leg, his fingers curling slightly where they rested just inside her thigh.


End file.
